How structure remains harmonious the Bible: and that was awesome! We have a blowup on aisle 9. The harmonious register just crashed. You never know you might get a receipt for just an hour, and that works because it doesn’t.
I don’t have any voice today. I’ve seen high and low, like everyone. I don’t dance on thin ice. I can actually see myself as other people, all day long, all the while nursin’ my own self.
I’m balanced inside, but I will tell you if you hurt me. I love humanity but know humanity’s not a nice person in its gears. I don’t fool myself that I’m loved.
I can sure react in an unguarded moment, and I hold you inside if you’ve hurt me, wonderin’ over that wound wanting justice to prevail, the justice of the other person: you count me as yourself and make amends somehow— in school; we haven’t gotten down to these files yet in our everyday life. We think punishment works.
We’re not even close to lovin’ one another. We are animals in a bullpen. We don’t know where we are. The sky’s the limit. It’s all up from here we think we’re high and mighty.
I can’t get over this lie we tell ourselves. It ruins our day. We can’t get out of bed and open up the mornin’ with us. There’s us and the rest of the world, and we’ve regulated nature to our tires. We don’t know the means of harmony. We think a boardwalk is something to eat. Our comfortableness in nature determines our appreciation of it. We don’t like it raw and wild in our ability to keep our hands off it where we elect officials or they are forced upon us. One day they’ll get it for their bulldozers and next of kin. The minerals on it rule out its welfare just wait and see its resources rule.
How do you change man? It depends on which stomach you use. You can’t find all of them. A communist rogue state, you can’t policy them forth, and a kingdom, well, their king rules. Let’s take democracy by the hand. No one can do that yet.
Can I explain we are not in the betterment of man? Primitive emotions rule the day, and they all center on greed. We are an economy of making money before we are a democracy. Well let’s roll up our sleeves and get at it, shall we?
Well the first thing you know ole Jed’s a millionaire. [sing line to TV song] Is that every politician that rules us? Do they have to be? Do you want them to be? Do rich people know best, and if they aren’t in office, do they determine who is? Does that make a representative democracy make life better for you if you have to grovel for a paycheck to make ends meet?
How many are in those shoes? Here, here, I’m here, and so are you, and know I’m speaking to the majority of mankind. Well how do we take back the city? Good God we’ve been animal all along the haves have ruled over the have nots. If you accumulate wealth, you determine society. Occupy did no good.
You can’t protest this out of the picture, but if you want your country back, change the way protests are made. You want to limit campaign funds to where the government gives them, no outside agencies. Not one dime comes from an outside source. The office will determine the price. We will we will rock you. [sing line to popular rock song] Among the candidates they’re distributed equally, determined by office. Obviously the president gets more. They get a certain amount of air and TV, newspaper and bulletin board. Nobody uses their own money. If they’re caught they’re out, not put in jail.
You disagree with this? It doesn’t have to be buffaloes. People need to be informed not inundated. We don’t have to make an election and entertainment’s scene or the gist our our lives. Do you still object? Can you see yourself in the mirror? Are you about real, positive change, or do you want a corrupt system that makes it for your greed?
Where are you at? You’re not on our side, we the people. Is this vacation spots? Know to be in office is to sacrifice. You have modest means. Scaled-Down, the living standards of those in power. They’re public servants. I’m talking modest, not meager or measly, befitting their role.
How do you vote for them? We look at requirements and qualifications, make an honest list, and narrow down the candidates to that. What’s you’re lookin’ for is a leader that is above the hatred of the crowd, that has compassion and sympathy and genuine goodwill. You need a man above the rest or a woman head and shoulders above the crowd, someone who can represent anybody. The cast is open to the humble and the low, economically speaking, and we’d wanna keep the rich out of office. Now that’ll change the world. Stock markets and political parties, they’d go the way of the dinosaur, don’t you see?
That’s how we begin, get at those campaign funds. It makes common sense. It will bring good government in time. It’s a place to begin. Dangerous, aren’t I? I’m not tryin’ to be. This is where we need to be to make it work, this human evolution we don’t even know is happenin’ and really don’t care, and that’s my fight: can you oh all ye people care?
The strength is on the distant, but would that you could hear me now. This is a way to be free. Do you want to be free? You’ve been lied to all along you know by politicians and their aggravators. They’re not in it for you, all ye good people of the United States. A few special interest groups control everybody, make their economic needs, power structures, and the rich take the cake.
What do we do? Don’t believe the liars for one. They don’t want Greenland. They’re just gettin’ ready to own the world. Do you believe that? How humble are you? Everybody’s pride believes the dictator, their own want the world. You are so very important you gobble up the world, right Disney, Yahoo, Microsoft, Donald Google? Meta is another name for greed, and Amazon delivers greed to your door, makes the whole world pay the price.
Executives, executives, executives, in that higher dollar amount, do they rule the world? Just ask inflation do they need that higher amount to make it all for themselves? Walmart, Walgreens, who’s getting richer? You know it. Okay vote for him again, the status quo, and see if you can afford the cost of living it grows and grows.
When’s it gonna end the tyranny of the few? Don’t we want a fair system, the right people in charge? I’m sorry commies and religious oligarchies and them damn kingdoms, only democracy can adapt to coming pressures. Democracy was made for man, in these shadow times, in these shallow times. You think man was made for the system of rules?
You don’t know the price of democracy. We grab it by the horns, make it work for what it really is. It’s a system for man. It’s a system for real. Now you take the campaign funds and make them work for the people, bring democracy down to science, who needs to be in office and who don’t. Is that so hard to believe? Is that so wrong? I’m a red-blooded American tellin’ you this, an ex-Green Beret, and I love you. Is that okay?
I want change, real change. I want the system to stop hurtin’ people. I want a representative democracy that works. I’m not tryin’ to tear down the system, and that’s where I’m scary, you know? Can you hear my campaign funds? See what I mean?
This is all about hitting the form. I’m a grocery boy at a supermarket, and I have worlds behind me. I could go to vagabond rivers yes, but I don’t think you want to see me there. I don’t want to stand here and sing. I’m a checkout boy at a grocery list, and I have to eat to survive. You don’t have poet shelves. You throw out the poet’s long underwear. You don’t have room for poets.
There are no guardians in history today. This is all about makin’ money, your personal toolkit. I will not be rescued by who gives a damn, but I just might take off with my dog and find greener pastures, from point A to point B. No more vagabonding for me.
I’ve lifted the race up, and you don’t knows it yet. Fuck me I’m tired, and there is no end in sight to grovel for a paycheck, to workin’ my ass off for the Man. Son of a bitch, I want a better world don’t you? Is it a paycheck?
The vital part of the vital, is it there? Look in Matthew’s sermon, so you can ornament it, love your brother as yourself, especially in these days. Works, huh?
That’s my beautiful latest poem. With the internet conked out, open the woman that doesn’t have it yesterday, and let’s have a new field today. Is that so hard to believe?
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
It snows in springtime, off the board. It smells in springtime— says my dog. She loves it there— a smell ring. David son of Benjamin, he suffers there. Everybody thinks he’s a Jew. Medieval applications apply. He’s magnificent— a great people. Jesus son of Benjamin, see what I mean?
To see it’s a world of scary mystery me’s, [sing line] and that’s in the oven. You don’t have the price is right. This is grandiosa me. Thank you. Whadda I do? Everything on Earth’s fine, just you have some problems in it, unnaturally in your lane. It’s a bear, and you get richly left alone too much for the shadows, and they are monsters. Oh, okay, I’m left alone in the dark.
I’m feelin’ Planet Earth. Now you’re a smart cookie, a smart little girl. Earth is fine means you have to study yourself to understand its price. It’s a werewolf. It hates you and hates you and hates you, and I’m sorry, but this is disguised as love. Even your loved ones stand with you where everyone feels alone. You can’t get enough love.
The secret of the ages: you know every human being just wants to be loved. This is powerful. It eats you alive. What’s to do about it? I’m right in the middle of this, okay? But I have the most amazing charge: everything’s alive, and I feel the likes of everybody. I can’t get over you, how big you are to yourself as I am. I really hurt for you, and I feel you deeply. This casts me alone under the eyes of everybody, all these deities, so many devils, beings in every corner of the woods, nature spirit upon nature spirit upon nature spirit, and so many spirits you don’t understand, and so many things have eyes.
Can you get a load of my day? It’s so cozy in bed with my dog. Great feelins— I don’t have the world on my back, and I’m in my cocoon shimmerin’ with my dog. Nature approves. I gather strength there. Do you know I make my night a boat to curse on the world’s dreams 11:30? I’m gonna make it outta here to another field of consciousness that experiences the world differently 12 o’clock high.
I have a question. What’s that boat about? The world is your illusion right in front of you. The reality’s inside, but you live in the world like it’s free. You have no obligations or even thoughts in your head, no sense of I at all, but you fulfill everybody perfectly. You’re not a go-getter. It’s passive, warm, and kind. You’re just there, like a star in the sky, and you know this is dangerous on earth. People want to eat you, but you’ve arrived at the starting point to bring down God on earth.
Future plans we grab the Earth by its horns and divinize the living shit out of it and make it nice and green. We make it right. This is all in our heads, and we will bring down Supermind here. Aeons away? I have no idea, and I hamburger for enlightenment now, the spiritual change, but the closer I get, I just can’t get there. I see everything, but it still bites.
I’m a cashier at a register makin’ Walmart money, and do you know how normal that is? I’m a cashier for enlightenment now. Enlightenment squirrels. The public sees you as a target to handle their groceries and items, and they really sympathize with you doing that for the most part. You got a loan together, the public and you, to bring humanity home. You are so intimate with their stuff, and they trust you. I take every customer as my responsibility. I want to touch them there: the immediacy of the moment is fine with them. It’s what Walmart strives for but doesn’t know how to do. Thank you. I’m meat in their hands, but let’s get on with it.
I love humanity don’t you? I cannot profound things to the very cosa itself, what we’re doin’ here and why. I can tell you how wide it is, but I cannot big get there. We’re on a spaceship you know. Glidin’ through Earth are cosmic agencies, and there is bigger than that. Do you know the Alone fronts your face? Try that mystery. It’s apart from everything all things is. I alone with that sometimes. You can feel its breath upon your shoulders, but why are we here? Because it is we are. That’s all I can tell yah. We are its strings to pull existence along that it opens nothingness with. I get enough sustenance from that thought to satisfy my cravings for being.
And every one of us is like that: me I’m an alligator eating nothingness alive. That’s personal. Have I given you the spoon yet? Can you take existence by the hand and bake it to where it means somethin’? Can you eat off my words? To bring their items home, I have that job with customers. I match them with their price. Give me a minute. I’ll get better at this job, like you will improve my see. I can’t talk to you general public. You’ve blocked me out. A poet and his public, is there a ringer there? Is there even a price? All the old gatekeepers apply. They will not let you do it anywhere else, be a public poet. You have to be gateway approved. Even the reader readin’ this will not poet it in his box if it’s not found poetry on an official poetry channel. We’re squirrels that way. We’re herd sour, and I can’t get out of this pen. Fine, I’ll tell you again.
Everything has eyes. Can you live there? Can you feel humanity’s heat like it’s your own baked bread? Can you see your dog’s as person as you, minus the grasp with the hands the grasp in thought, and you love those creatures? I’m stoppin’ eatin’ meat. I just can’t take it, all those little lives snuffed out to arrive on my table after untold suffering. I feel the meat I eat, and it’s paradise here in America, a meat lover’s paradise. We just don’t know what hurts. I’m not a fanatic about it. I’ll just get that conscious diet, not freak out if I eat an animal a time or two, feelin’ its life. Can you get there, laid back about it all, not offended by anything? You’re just lookin’ at yourself studyin’ your every day to be a better me in it, to develop yourself to answer God’s prayers. That’s the price of livin’ if you want to know. That’s what we all take on. That’s what we all live to Earth is better this planet right now. You feel me dog?
Then change my name. Change your body. That’s not it. Good morning. Dirty-Purdy, you gonna pay it or what? It has eyes. It’s a snake in the grass, but it’ll kiss your feet. You can’t run it down. You can only be with it like you mean it. Hello Robin Hood. Attention Walmart shoppers, a lot of money behind the fence. Freshness just comin’ in, you gonna pay for it. Let’s slice out at the top all those profits. Can you give me some of that honey please— employee. You got your standard dome, makin’ money. You, what I can do to call you on it. I get on it great balls of fire, my own imitation of this land’s for you, “This Land Is Your Land”, and I’m talkin’ to the people you understand availability wrote.
Make you think the machine actually makes you an associate. Don’t read anything where you can set them straight. Poemless to get you money. Marriage attorney, I’m down the road a bit, the ultimate customer you’ll have to face no matter what, and we are really cozy in here under the counter, the public and the corporate string rackets. They’re doin’ just some stupid money launderin’. Even the public can tie better shoes. Corporate all the crap you lay on us, get some money that’s what happens today’s date. Tomorrow you will meet the world and don’t just take from it. “The Advice Capitalism”, one link leads to another.
I’ve got your pants down, but I’m not gonna spit on yah. We need better from you. Don’t say that you don’t understand and know that fully. Walmart you piece of cake in the cash register. I want a better job from you. To me, I can return a couple of those. That Sherry Dennis, you got a gripe about her, rude, mean, and on her pantyhose. I think we’ve got a stereotype. It’s that checkout lady on the counter. She’s found her roost and is a hen in a pecking order she rubs your nose in. What do you do about her? Corporate can’t understand it. It doesn’t make you wanna work there. They’re baskin’ in power, years at the register, and you’re dealing with social hierarchy in a hen peck, and that hen don’t have ears or a social conscience. So you don’t get away with nothin’ in your goodwill towards her. Why would that offend you if goodwill’s all you got? You see the test lamb. You have to always be on your toes to balance sacrifice with the right thing to do and let bygones be bygones and start each day anew. Whew, that was hard.
Listenin’ to freeways, I’m takin’ holes by the horns and sayin’ come on some, I want to fill you with awareness. I can’t believe it. We're just markin’ time here killin’ things. Look inside yourself and see you carry the world. I cried at a poster rat. Said he was 17 and missin’. He looked so on himself and purdy, so sweet and mean, so teenager in his prime. Did somebody get their hands around that throat and take the world from him? You dirty rat. The poster never lets you know. That’s all folks. I’d like to talk to you guys. And when you lay it out, in whispers, find our bottoms will yah? There, we’ve reached the sky safe and sound. You know who makes it out alive? The target.
I’d like to build a church. I’d like to build a bridge. Make for soldiers who just can’t take it anymore. Get it done in springtime. Get it done right now, wonderful fields of dream. You’re authorized don’t be a dick, carry everybody to the woodshed, and you don’t bang them there. You are nice, soft, and warm. You muse be. You are a string holding existence together. You are more jolly than that. You are yourself beyond time. Don’t bite into the dirt. You need to look good to the end of the line.
That’s the story. That’s our wellbeing on earth, ever a handmaid to little tigers, and we give all those animals love. Talk to me about it. I know the price of the gun. It’s ever on my mind the harm I’ve done. That’s a nice cat. Thank you, I bought it myself. The Earth has it in its storybook. It’s held meaning Earth. I’m championing children you know. What would we do if we were good and kind to them, soft and warm? Revolutionize society and be big sisters to everyone. Well, what are you waitin’ for?
God dog you could be nice Donald Trump. Everybody, Trump's bad, not a kind character. I just sign up for what I see. The paint of the Mother race God. I ask Luna. Of course, a story to be me all the way to couch potato. That’s the kind dog, lovin’ everybody. Beautiful she wrote.
Yeah I know: am I too excited? (the sound of my phone telling me a message has arrived) A poem I wrote, I’m dealin’ a lot of shit. I’m dealing with a lot of good looking manners. There’s a large turnover. Whoever read this book, good afternoon.
The doorway it’s small, that doorway to land on Earth. Gonna get the team leader God watching, and we will bank a new Earth. Right dog? Nothing from Islamic State. All over their hardware, oh me, my outlawed poem-video “Rainbow as a Radical with Islamic State”. It got me in the hospital every week making it, stomach attack city. Now die Venezuela. Invite you to dinner and eat you, America is that you? Fine, put ‘em in the basket. Next Greenland. Go and help them get out of danger you fine Nazi hunters. Freshness company, can we stand up and be counted? Are you excited to get Trump out? Walmart goes through the store in trepidation glee on the shores of eternity.
Sharin’ and US History, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. When were gone astray, oh tidings of comfort and joy. [sing this and above line, the Christmas carol] You could only go so far. An evil lits the bar. [sing this and above line] Watch on the pitch. A crooked umpire is prepared on you, support dragons. Tackle every notion of self-righteousness. You must do this watchin’ yourself. In this imperium no hands unnoticed. You sing her the Gemini has given her an eye. And we hear from the divine about me. After canned goods I got you pretty good. What is it if you can’t see? You would not be uncomfortable with unkindness.
Springtime is a soul’s regard. You just like a historic book? I’m writin’ history on the parallel lines, what we gotta give up for good to conquer, the whole landmass of selfish, of hey everybody I’m mean, of I’m satisfied with my lower type, of let’s put Earth first in a bottle and hide it from time. Can you grasp a greater day?
Unhand that king. He’s not about to rule the world. He can’t rule himself straight. Let the lunch he’s ordered eat him alive, all that rope he hung himself with, if he insists on bein’ mean. You hear me Trump? Havin’ a good time support dictator. View history’s log. We thought we were free— German patriotic people in Hitler’s time. Do you know what’s goin’ on? You are fooled by your own vulgarity in how you treat people and axe them inside. Trump does just what you do on a grand scale. So did Hitler. You just got more constraints. Make Jews and a police to punish them with, that’s immigrants with a darker skin and ICE.
Do I need to put the list on board? You’re not gonna see it anyway. Undocument yourself from meanness, pettiness vice. Can you know the meaning of love? I think we all pay that price. Don’t you feel it? And the list goes on, all that I see in springtime. All comes out in springtime the soul carries forth. It’s not a rotten tomata. I’m sittin’ there now. Great Scott! I’m embarrassing to say I love you, you purdy balance of soul.
Will you come along with me? We have a nation to save. Aren’t you gonna help? We need your input right now in your candy maker, givin’ love to everybody where your thoughts ride Earth. Impossible it seems if at first they’ve hurt you, but that’s the standard of the universe, love. You just haven’t found it yet the crabapple is so strong. Am I right city? Of course you love. I’m goin’ that way right off the roof. In every answer could you see that it’s a blast off into the sky every direction love.
You do an application first of the love down home in your garden, what you feel for your kids, cats and puppy dogs. You’d stop laughin’ then at the way I hold my mouth sayin’ all you need is love, love everybody right now, some 60s sentiment. When you hold your children you hold the world, and can you come on earth and see that? Can you hold down Earth and see that?
The subtle ends of the world put us all together like we are one person, and we certainly are. He don’t brush his teeth. He sure does, inside your every move. What are you lookin’ at, the mess we’ve made? I’ll definitely stay here, all our mornings in springtime, to see the soul in action and hear it write a poem, and all that one soul we are, divided up into springtimes, and there I’ve spoken mine.
That’s walkway center. The appetite is love. Get a load of a great day. I’ll just have to break it down into a different register than yours that keeps the same coins. Oh field toss, what have you, I have a way with the strings to cast you my day, things I’ve touched you to understand poetry. It’s hands down a better world. Sure can baby, we can love one another. That will touch the sky. Just open it up. Be alarm— all you have to do is want it. While you’re doing that, marry it with Heaven. Then he knows where God on earth that angel sings.
“Oh My Look at that Ole Dog” by the author. Luna on Fort Myers Beach. She made it.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Congress can come to my bank. I have ideas representational spiraling towards the universe. I can show you yourself, your muffin. I’m not in a handbag. I’m not parkin’ cars. I look at the world and smile, because I know its price. It’s huge big, but I don’t get lost in it. I see the telltale signs of behind. I can gauge the world through there. The Spirit has the show. Behind the world does.
It’s not communicable. You can’t see it with normal eyes that see vision. It’s not in your visual field. It’s nowhere apparent. How do I know it’s there? I can descry it in spiritual vision. I see the substance of things. I know that huge engines lie in the fabric of the wood. I can see the frontal of things land on it.
I’m a thought proper. Pregnant I stand and sing, and I offend people doing so. It’s cost me my livelihood. I got fired. I’m in trouble today. I see it in spiritual vision. All around me there’s trees involved with my pen. I’ve really written some things alarming to the public. They shoulder my hero. They’re here and there.
Mainly what I show you is how to change from one thing into another, from a blind man into one who sees. I show you how to bring good out of bad, how to change your very nature. Poem after poem has landed on the world’s docket. I don’t get known there. Do you know the price of change? It sits on your life extractin’ good. It’s costly. You have to pay in sacrifice. The world takes its toll. People are very small about it. Forgiveness and understanding, no one gives them to yah. You will be persecuted for good, even if your sins aren’t listed to the world, to the people in front of you.
You make power uneasy. They can’t believe you’re there. The people that hold the world in its little stations mostly are mean and jewel, and it’s fake jewelry. They’re petty people. They have an arm on society that robs it of its worth, but they will tell you differently. We’re used to this, the hypocrisy at the top. It’s all for show, but here I’m gettin’ in those little wears, like a community organizer or some little boss.
Where do you find good that’s good to everyone, equal pay even to the riffraff? Is there a worldwide heart there? Is there someone that embraces humanity, has goodwill at all times, treats people kindly even if they’re homeless and destitute, sacrifices for people not worthy of it, loves them too?
I’m not talkin’ about the perfect man or woman. I mean they really try to treats others as themselves, regardless of the other. They’re fair people to everyone. It’s me, it’s me you say. Glad to meet yah. Continue readin’.
You threaten people then, challenge their sense of self, will be very unwelcome at their parties by your own sense of self. You can’t shoot the breeze and not feel the weight of other people and their meaningfulness to you. You’re flabbergasted by it. It’s not a little show. You examine yourself continually for false pride and vanity, for things that don’t match love, and when people hurt you, you feel that sting, but you try to get your head around their price. You study the world and their place in it to see what world needs arise. If you act, it’s not with malice. Empathizing with them you understand they need a reckoning. Their world play has gotten too far in selfish ends. They harm.
Are you there my friend in being good even when it hurts, in bein’ inside yourself an open vessel to feel other people? Is that person in front of you the weight of the world? Do you take delight in dogs, and can you feel a tree there the livingness of everything? Do you laugh with the wind filled with the caprice of its consciousness, identifying even with the forces of nature? There’s more of being then being shows, and we’ve come to the invisible, but would we find you there identifying with the wind and sea? Great Scott! you’re a tall human being.
The organic meanness of the machine, that’s not your pride. You’re a tall order. You do penance for people. You never leave someone out in the cold. You’re understanding and kind, forceful when you have to be, but not mean and cruel. You are so on yourself to set things right. Can I get across to you your underwear? You have left lust behind. It’s not what you do eat people. The roles of sex are no longer in your play. You’ve matured out of that.
How can I count this? It’s my livin’ mood. It’s my every day. This is the price you pay for love, and you’re not ready for it I know, the death of your own genital squeeze play, but we can still have children. Youth gives birth to our young, old enough to know the consequences and take on that responsibility where society thinks, where society helps them grow where society grows. We are no longer individuals on our own, and we get along with each other. Individuals have room to grow and be themselves, the freedom of their nature that lets society grow.
I’m a social revolutionary. I see the beyond, and I carry my dogs there. The world for me is paper thin. I see the behind, and I love it there. My dog just messed. Did you see that? Can a poet have a sense of humor? No, I don’t like butts and smelly asses. I’m walkin’ on miracles, this world set in place, all its motion, a storybook Earth.
I’m tryin’ to tell yah the price of the world in seeing, how you handle the world in moments of gloom, in cries of despair. You look up into your largeness. You look out there into your springtime. You handle the world as it eats you, but you’re too much for the world, and so it spits you out, and you stare at it an equal integer. It can’t get at you in your lists.
We are a bubble inside an immensity beyond time, tiny as the wind blows, a drop in an ocean of continuous being. We are one aggrandizing look in everybody’s lookingness. Worlds upon worlds tell this show. All-Containing seeing rides us all. We are a looking glass into infinity, and we only see ourselves on finite Earth. Ever being grows to its larger glass, and can you count that?
I’m on the high seas of the bottomless lookingness. I see larger being than ours messing with us, setting us straight, and I can see bigger than them beyond this universe of stars into the larger looking glass that encompasses ours. I’ve sat up there once looking down on Earth. Miracle on miracle bridges who we are, who put us into this play, the larger than time’s being we are. So many seconds started this show, a poet here in your lap singin’ the ends of time, singin’ for all its worth.
I’m bangin’ on time. I’m giving extra credit. I know the hunt in time. It’s bigger than stars. I can grapple the world there, just this old codger who walks his dog and means nothin’ to nobody savin’ a few. It’s a laugh really, the breath of my vision and how little you see me. I’m showin’ you inside. These are the concepts of my thoughts. These are the concepts of my dreams. I habitat these thoughts all day. Lookin’ at the world through a dog’s eyes, I can gather life. It’s insane really I’m not the one insane.
Let’s go back to lunch, shall we, that the stars in the sky tell us we’re wrong. There are bigger fields than Earth, and I’m countin’ stars in my diary and know there’s beyond them. I know you’re safe, even if you get tarred and feathered, crucified on some cross. Nothing can touch the Spirit. The soul is free from everything, and it laughs that gentle laughs that knows the score, but is sure hurts down here doesn’t it, to be a beggar at time’s gates just wantin’ to be loved?
That’s the shit of it, and the soul takes these shocks and turns them into gold, but we suffer the because of it because we are flesh here not soul. The soul is deep. The soul is long, and it might let you get killed before it shows itself, and what poor bugger can take comfort in soul when his trials and tribulations are happenin’? This is the juxtaposition do Earth we bury here, where we mean something to each other. It’s a lamp unto our feet, ain’t it?
I show you the price of a laugh. Let’s make this work. The price of a fall, that’s too expensive for us. We are here on Planet Earth wantin’ to survive. Will it happen? It’s certainly meant to. We have to get out of our kingpin. We have to get out of our nursery. We tarry there. We rob there. We’re stadium laughter. Do you know how many eyes see us? Do you know how many eyes care?
Let’s get this down to a science, hey, everybody’s a hero on Planet Earth. You can do it I know you can, be there bigger than the world. Are you just gonna stand there and do it, practice burnin’ people? Will you see my face? I didn’t get away with it. I shoulder more than society’s prison. I shoulder the pain of the world. Unhand me I’m free? No, I’m not enlightened. Good luck, that’s in my hand, and I may reach freedom yet. Is that the answer to tomorrow? Yes and soul release. We interrupt this broadcast, and it looks like we broadcast now.
Everything bad happens, not everything good. Do we just spit at each other? I’ve got radio silence. You might kill your mistakes. Look at this. Why would you want me silent? Maybe tomorrow lip service you’ll give. They’re not hiring. I want to go to Mound Key. I just put a belt on and I make that hirin’ the world. Where is my pay? I warned you. Oh look, the hammer, it will get all over your fur. Men home it’s comin’. Everyone, I’ve got a tale to tell, and it shows.
Well it’s time to go to sleep. A poem has not made you ready. (vision of Grace Beagle sitting pretty and looking at me like in a life-size picture frame, two or three poses) Taking a picture, you know how dogs to that. Keepin’ your fingers crossed, we’ll get them here too, Grace and Hannah and Bruno. Now be off with you. I got a train to catch. That ole boy put his foot on the pedal and headed towards them yards. We are not in hospital beds.
Grace and Hannah, photo by DouglasBruno, photo by the author
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Look at the homeless with binoculars. Our individual freedom doesn’t extend that far in the thousand mile kingdom. No homeless please. We’re all fruitcakes. Be crazy live a crazy day, tantalizing. We are moored in individual freedom everywhere our commercials reach. They key of the individual has been locked in some drawer. Look at it. Conformity in obedience is every sign.
Conformance and mobility, is that a high-rise condominium? We live in nation great. Has anybody seen it? It’s a melting house of the wrong ideas. It’s a house of conformity livin’ in big beds. Try to bring four dogs to town, and you’re out the door. Can the people that make such decisions respect you?
What are we doing here? Everything makes money or is about the same. We don’t live in a society of free people. We think politics rules the day. It’s each other we rule with our dumb attitudes of you’re not my type or you don’t do that right.
Let’s all be mean to everybody when we have the power to do so. Who wears a social mask when you’re a hero championing all the distain? I can be mean to you because social hierarchy is everything in the land of the free.
What’s up? Have we sold our souls for product? Look at the shelves. The comfortable eating world of me, my God it’s big. The availability of product has destroyed the world, but I put America first in my prayers, and I get fat doin’ it.
Now it’s the Gulf of Mexico bein’ drained out in America’s name. We are proud people, and we stick our nose up at a fall. We don’t know there’s a fall. Just ask an immigrant, illegal if they’re non-white, legal or not. They know a reckoning. How are they not human beings? They know the price of a fall.
Can we discuss national boundaries? How are we managin’ this, without constraint? The people that sleep in the same trees as me my country ’tis of thee? Open borders haunt us all, but are borders and hatred the same thing? I’m ICE lookin’ down its long list to expel people: let’s get rid of vermin will yah? Is that the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Salute the flag again. Everybody’s doin’ it, and here comes Trump, an underdeveloped character from our minions, who does not have love for his neighbor, has taken the golden rule and shove it up your ass, hates even his constituents if they’re not about his name.
Where is God? He is not in Trump’s eyes. He won’t fit there. The justice of God is concerned with the Earth, sacrifices for the love of mankind, loves the just and the unjust, let’s his rains benefit everybody, is an ambulance carrying people to righteousness.
America puts God first? Let’s send everybody to hell who hasn’t got the formula right worship Jesus or die. Now that’s love for all eternity, no forgiveness ever, and you are suffering the worst hell imaginable. Found your nation on this religion, make this your idea of God, his final character, and you don’t have a nation love your brother let me tell yah.
Now give Trump the power of God, that carte blanche you’ve given him, and make him mean you. Trump is not there in the love of your life. He’s a dangerous will armed with time. Where do you see Christ? Where do you see the love of man? What is his dollar statement? Every head and every hands making that the chief concern. Right on the beach put this hood on yah: you’re makin’ money off of sunbathers; you’re makin’ money off of fences; call this the American way.
The mess we’re all in, have you found it yet? Would you look for it if you could? Are you just blind to the peripherals? Would you love your brother if you could, whoever that is? That’s not giving them a dollar to eat. You’re giving every man, woman, and child on the Earth we inhabit, in our togetherness, the helpful goodwill we need to see each other correctly.
And America, the most powerful nation on earth, can you lead us all to goodwill and be an example of sacrifice? Never mind defending your borders; you have that genuine need, but can we get grace to policy your movements?
There, my God I poet. Do you hear me? And found peace a few times before the profound peace. I’m lookin’ for it now. I have an appointment with destiny. It’s just my own personal flavor on things, a poet in the halls of America let’s be good shall we? I didn’t cut my teeth on it, and boy have I been a sinner, but goodness is my way to meet the world because I’ve learned the price of love.
Can I give you that honor? Let’s swim on the beach and never harm anyone, even in the throes of thought. Let’s pick up ourselves and cherish one another. I’m rootin’ for you in this sundown meditation. Do you hear the beach?
photo by me of one of my only real friends on the island
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
I’m telling you the birds and the bees. It’s way over your head? Come on now slow down and read. This is the biggest thing on earth where we whip up ourselves. I’ve revealed the times, any way you look at them. See that dog standin’ there? It’s the same for him. Now let this poem unfold before your eyes a poet where you’re sittin’.
All about bears and livid nature just feed the worm. They just didn’t do it right, be themselves in a public crowd. An exaggerated sense of self led them through the day. This is the human worm. I think this plagues everybody. It’s baseline bein’ human, when we encounter each other. I am so big in my eyes. I need to show this to people. I have to feel good about myself and expose my difference. I am just one in a crowd, and that hurts.
A social hierarchy makes everybody sting and just messes up bein’ human. Everyone is just falling all over themselves to be an item. Your boss said no. Now, what’s at fault here? Everybody’s just bein’ human. Let me give you a hug. I’ve just arrived on the scene, and I think we met once, and I have to show this scene my Jesus imitation mi corazón, or I just sit back and judge everybody pretendin’ to be bigger than everybody else with my debonair, so they see I’m the one important here.
Can you stop? Nobody can. These are the facts of life. I’m a hole in one. I see everything as the center of me. My senses place me dead center. I hear everything inside confirm that. I feel it on my skin, and you can be my child, and I am not your senses to you, and your inner life is dead to me. I don’t hear a thing. I infer. I gather. I learn to empathize. I don’t know where you’re at as you see me. My world is so big you understand, your world pressin’ in on me. I’ve got to show yah I’m worth.
Here’s the deal. You don’t believe me, unlessin’ we mean for each other. There are just too many of us to care about them others. This is such an exaggerated posture, however much noise we make to show our worth. We feel ourselves so deeply. We are ever-present with ourselves, and we want so to be liked and loved, not made to feel bad about who we are. Oh man please listen to me. We each and everyone of us hurt so because we’re ridin’ the world right upon its seat, legitimately the peddlers of existence, wind in our hair, fire under our tires, and not a person sees that but us.
Oh my God that hurts. It’s downright mean to arrange a world bottle this way. Is it a Creator laugh? We’re so on ourselves, little children at the handlebars, peddlin’ for all it’s worth. Who can blame us for bein’ mean? Now you know that’s not right, and God is not a son of a bitch. We’re workin’ out a plan too big for us to see. We have to take the impossible and pump it on our bikes, not live in a storm of I am the you, the me.
We have to do this ourselves, realize every Dick and Jane is the center of ourself too, and they feel the world out there the central event in it, just like everyone of us does to our existential eyes. Oh my God all life fits there. Oh my God all the world fits there.
Can you see the change in identity? There you are identifying with everything. Now you can still get your work done, but with radically changed hands and thought process, and your heart beats in everyone’s so that you can feel them like yourself. Even if you fumble this someone really does you in, you climb back up there because it’s how you see.
Now am I livin’ wart? I have the apple in my hand. I’ve explained to you humanity, right there in social dice. I’m the cows come home, and I’m different you see? I’m posturin’ so you’ll give me worth. Is it all a game? Do we just bury our heads in sand dunes we are so embarrassing on each other? Oh no sweet brother, sweet sister, puppy dog, pussy cat, we are so much more than tumultuous sees. We are bigger than stars, just immature infants that’s all to how fucking big everything is and meaningful. We have a role to play in an unimaginable creation’s purpose, these little animals that we are, but we grow up you see.
I’m speakin’ from that tall noon far off in a shimmering distance. Inevitable we arrive. A chrysalises our dumb selves, and we’re just waitin’ on that greater light to open us, and this poem has eyes on that light. Is that okay? You sent me the email to shut up. I’m sorry I can’t. It’s what makes me tick, right here: see that me there? I’m lookin’ at the world poet my number. His editorial number God central that’s you.
I have to have a storm to peddle in emergencies, passage mean, this business of losing my job. A cute muffin is my horticulture, a grassroots revealing poem. Now think on this. What’s so weird this is Candid Camera. We’re bein’ caught in ourselves, because as luck would have it we are the One lookin’ out at the world through everyone’s eyes.
We get caught in ourselves seein’ that, and there’s a host of pile-ons. We’re creation’s niggers, little hapless animals breastfeeding on life, not knowin’ who we are, not knowin’ where we came from. We’re a little window on time, unaware of the All inside. It’s spurs us on. It gives us courage. It’s not bound by time or even existence. We are there you see in the front of ourselves too close to see.
What a Hollywood. It’s wonderful really, and validates all our notions of look important me. To discover that in yourselves you would have to remove the Earth from view, see brighter than stars. Can you do that? That will be the day you will count forever as the starting of your see. You would’ve seen Earth laid bare in all of its miracle. In several seconds sums it up for me. I’m seein’ all those pile-ons a poet describin’ time. Is that so bad? A referee man, I’m tellin’ yah how the cow ate the cabbage. Am I invited to dinner?
The most precious thing on earth, your dog loves you so, and you can treat ‘im like a dog, piss all over him with your human control, shock the shit out of him with that play-button shock collar, and he’ll lick your hand and throw away all his pride at your feet. Now how do we help that dog? It's not abuse you get arrested for, but you don't wanna look at it. There’s better hours his master can spend with him. Well I found out theys do me dog here too. Comin’ in didn’t see that. I thought I was a pedigree dog. (The sound of laughter) He gets embarrassed and shy we share identity. Get that puppy so much better than scoldin’s. Honor that dog.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
The captive adult, I’m not that bad. Dated immigrant, 21 years in India, and I didn’t have a form to fill out, and they called me illegal. Are you kiddin’ me? Human beings are wrong, nasty, and evil, if they’ve overstayed their visa. Everybody says so. Look at Trump.
I’ve got a million dollars. I’ve got hair in my ICE, and my hair in on fire lookin’ at the human being. I judge is my luxury. I’m not as tall as I am, and I get downright small on the issues group think.
Now murder me some, the I now the poet, who can say I to anyone. Okay we’ve called down Congress, hopin to find some expediency to keep tyranny from happenin’. I mean we’ve wrote a poem, maybe several, that ask government to be government and not make us bow down to nationalism and be a dictator over our lives.
No British government can force the crown on us. We are all we are in the halls of independence, and everybody who signed the paper put their lives on the line. Protest is useless. Give a government what it wants, total dominion, you stupid s.o.b. Let it take over Auroville and rule with an iron fist and remove the international scene if the people resist.
To point this out to people, to use poetry to stop it. Now let’s get on with it, movin’ Heaven and Earth to get our dogs. No, no, no, you can’t do that, ask the community for help, the man at large, the woman with the telephone. Get second jobs you fools and pay for your dogs yourself.
You selfish points of contact with the society in the bag. You are supposed to work, work, work and create no art, write no poetry, or go on your little round abouts and discover the community. You are of no value to us as a society, and you cannot ask for a thing. Asking the community for help with your dogs, you’re throwin’ pies in our face. Get your act together and stop asking people for help. So many millionaires on this island, and please don’t bother them. They’re makin’ money.
I think we’d need to ask the millionaire. We find some kind, nice, and warm, open to humanity, especially dog lovers, and we’ve gotten a lot of help. Thank you. But the thing most profound in all this mess, in all this criticism, concerns our way of life. We are digging a well into the meaning of life, and every decision is based on that. We live our lives to a spiritual plan and put that first. It’s not lip service. It’s the reality of our lives.
Even our dreams we hone in on God and seek to find the higher consciousness. We do not base our lives on survival, making money, or anything of the sort. We are not here to have a good time. The consequences of that are huge. We get attacked constantly. Jesus died on the cross, and you think it was for sin? Poor bugger got caught openin’ up God inside himself.
What’s this I say? Jesus was on a tree, castigated and torn, murdered, because he showed men how to change their lives in spiritual substance. He gave men and women a way to be free by breaking the bonds of consciousness and being born again into the higher type, and you think it’s a wish-wash hangin’ on a prayer, and you’re clean and good, religious for the rest of your life? A radical transformation of our whole life Jesus envisioned. Now shoot me for saying that he did not die for our sins.
So anybody we’re up against, as we try to change, base our life on this mountain, is either put off or keeps us at a distance. Few come inside our home or invite us to socialize. We are too weird for TV. I think you’d find us warm and very human to be with. We know you’re God starin’ back at us, a startling revelation we challenge ourselves with every day.
Now kick us and be mean to us because we are different from you, and you need validation that only your life is true. Have I said enough? I’m on time I think to be Who I am, a man in search of himself that his divinity timeshare wears, a man tryin’ to change in his higher type, and I’m doin’ that in normal life. I got kicked out of India.
Now say I keep my nose to the grindstone, work a 40 hour week, pay my bills, keep my mind to myself, unless someone asks— I’m talkin’ about at work. Can I be in America and do that, or is conformity the rule of the day now, and if I don’t conform I’m fired, lose my home? Will I be chased off this island for poetry like I was India?
Do you understand what’s your doin’? There’s a radical change of consciousness ahead, how we evolve out of this mess. There’s a new society of ourselves waitin’ to be born. There’s human survival in the balance. Let’s huff and puff and blow it down because we cannot tolerate change out of our satisfied little lives, and these two beggars, Don and Doug, we need them to straighten up and be just like us.
Now all you good people, can you get your head around that? Can you please? “Douglas at the Watering Hole”, another joy for understanding. It’s so true yes. All the whiles are looking at me. You raise your hands among yourselves. Why should I be any different? Another two weeks before bylaws are stated. A bunch of people, a bunch of people on this island support, are lookin’ at this way: I approach the bench, and there are good vibes there.
You’re on dissidence you’re on daily bread, you just take a deep breath and keep on goin’, confirmation code casting problems away from your human beings and comin’ to yourself for the love of man. Are there any other spring rolls? An island bright in sunshine, and all those puppy dogs— the love of animals too. Well they’re on our diet. Would if they’re off in time for us to renew the Earth? Yeah I know. I got a ways to go, but our dogs are our children, and I don’t eat those.
For the love of dog, they’re honored guests on our island too, and who are we but guests on bright and shiny seashores the power of Nature rules? What causes earthquakes? Well, we might have something to do with them greed takes the shore, if we honor our pocketbooks more. Help was health insurance, but would the Calusa listen? There are no more creeds for the Calusa to close. It was 30 miles an hour, their hunting season, who put other peoples out. I pointed it out. Pointed it out wind, we do it, no socioeconomic class below the poverty level.
It’s easy for me to say. I just got here. And they’re real deep in there so be good to them Harbor Island. Ed the reason an algebra drive, if you wanna get past your schoolbooks. We are representative creatures ourselves hook, line, and sinker. An actor plays a part, you and me, and you don’t save your soul. Your soul you find it and rise above yourself to Who you represent in time. Find Yourself to believe in. That’s good news and that One is all of us, islands and dogs included.
Now believe in hell as a preferable option for most people, and you really need to examine yourself, don’t you think? I’m just talkin’ islands. Now you hear them speak. Rise power to Nature, or we’re not gonna make it. Will you listen?
Well legalized in a fiery seal, we’ve moved mountains on Fort Myers Beach to get in there. Would you welcome please Doug and Donny and let them have their dogs and spiritual life? I need to put poems on it, this startup page. Rock me gently, rock me slowly (sing to Rock Me Gently by Andy Kim) for the love of the island. It touches yah you know and helps people along like us. Thank you island.
Come on Jim, we’re just here for a little while. We’re off to the mountains in springtime. Not now. When we put our time in on the island. Meaning we are open to the island. Can you gauge that? Just let it be.
There’s somethin’ Earth husband, but can we be accepted not being gay doing it? We don’t have to be gay, do we, to be two husbands and a wife? We’re celibate you know, but we don’t live inside an egg. I don’t like it. You guys are doin’ great. Good riddens. Well we’ve heard from the crowd. It’s nice to be accepted, ain’t it? We’re just a laboratory. I’m doin’ the laboratory. Could you stop threatenin’ to kick me out? I wuv you.
I suppose you can read the writings after the fall, but I was really hopin’ humanity wouldn’t fall. Is there anybody out there? We don’t have to fall. Now I’ve taken on the voice of the world, but who believes you can get that done? Now you know the spirit of Old St. Nick, and it shows by a red light. Build for sunlit paths the stadium of our Earth. Is that today’s date? I have found good shit to faith, but we’re at a watering hole, and we have no sense of each other. Love others as yourself, that’s precious to us now.
Sure, are you singing the song, or does your music just get drunk island hopper? Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues. (sing to Honky Tonk Woman) Let the big sheet guests know that the grassroots can do it themselves, move Earth towards our up stand. Now gotta get to work. You have a great day.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
How do we know each one of us is a liar? How do we know each one is true? We’re not criminals anymore, those of us thinking the worst of you.
It’s just procedure, the inhumanity of our times, despite all the books that say so: let’s get our humanity down to a science, the feelings test, the look in the eyes, the agreements made by hand and not the machine.
The ones who take our humanity to the test crowd us up upon ourselves the attitude of you are a liar until proven guilty. We would just make them mad writing poems on their behalf.
Just to get a library card you have to take a lie detector test, and you live right next door, can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt you live there, without paper-wiping the machine.
Oh God give me a break you’re playing trivial pursuit— the one who looked me in the eyes and needed confirmation they were true. / I’m as tall as grass, and this is buggin’ the shit out of humanity: prove you’re a human being.
It’s everywhere apparent we’re crowdin’ in on each other, and you have to prove the rule of the machine. Oh my God bylaws, and I’m a derelict for sayin’ so?
We are all too common now, the gateway to total control the way we are with each other. Can I sing this to you where we bake our bread? Poetry doesn’t have a shoreline. It’s unhanded. It’s not the way we have with books.
Now they’re for leisure time. It’s not to challenge us in our thinking. It’s not to make waves where we meet each other to take us back to square one in mutual trust.
How do we lift the veil and get yah to read a poem? Any poem points to the human being getting higher than themself. Can you copy that? It can be in an estuary along a manatee’s spine line so glad you’re there leavin’ them alone. You feel better highin’ their part with you.
Now give that to everything you need to look at. Home owner’s insurance, are you sure you got a poem there? It’s the poems that take on life and better us with ourselves, and you’re not whistlin’ Dixie. Wow, I’ve landed a poem.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Under Fire Lake with the hatred that rules society. I’m on a mountain. Each new tap on the shoulder crosses worlds Snoopy rides, but I’m into the fire large out on the floor from all the spiritual dawns. You hear the spiritual advice at the Roxie? Knock it off. I’m a tourist information booth.
Everybody has left the United States. We are beached on a poem. There’s nowhere to turn. I’ve fucked up. I’ve called poetry in on its job. I can’t even show you the poem. You’d fight me for it. Guaranteed I’d lose my job, and I’d be homeless again.
What’s these great stakes? Snowball, we’d watch it rise downhill, until my boss heard about it, our not allow four dogs landlord. Can I call them on it? I can describe their preferences that would reach the limit at this poem. How much help they’ve given me would end there.
What I am sayin’? I’ve got a poem to knock your socks off, but you don’t want to read it if you’re a normal American fanfare, if you reach deep in your pocketbooks to exploit people, if you make hell the end of the game for non-Jesus people.
Can I get away with murder? I have to be careful what I say. I can’t open my mouth in poetry. I wanna see my dogs, and I wanna live again. Can you blame me for self-censorship? This isn’t fair. I suffer.
I do not understand capitalism. It won’t accept another way of life that makes sacrifice a way of life, sacrifice for your brother and sister in life, sacrifice to the better in you. We’re beached on whale, and even communism beaches there and our church’s regard.
Come on Sacrifice Capitalism, the laissez faire don’t believe in, can we change the world there? I have a hunch. Before profits we ask need, what’s best for the community, and can we have humanity please considered too? Can we grand the whole world in business decisions so that animals matter and the breath of our life trees, what about for our island Fort Myers Beach?
Sacrifice Capitalism ladies and gentlemen. Work out the details school children in role play, every business leader. The profits take a backseat to need. Can we get there?
Not even to a poem I cannot show you because you would not let me do it, be a poet on live, talk about the weather, and political Christians control the weather that bursts apart in our minds, and money rules the show.
I can’t spit out the juice. I’m not exactly at fault. Do you believe in poetry? It’s just somethin’ to report to your superiors? Now I need everybody to take a deep breath. Is this paper weight? A ninny of a poem, a filler for time shares. Wanna see the real thing? Wanna see it? You do? Do you thirst for it?
I’m on a bank of the Lord deliverin’ the paper. A big decision, and I’m not safe. Ask you another question. Glory did somethin’? Whoa my poem just went in the air. It’s gonna take some doin’ I rush this right through. I’m 33-years-old, givin’ out a lot of free material. They killed him. Damn, you got your hands on me. Do you get me my poetry constituents?
Fire in the yard, I’m gonna put some poetry someplace else, a whole nuther anthem from here. I don’t trust you. You’ll kick me out for poetry. You won’t even give me a chance to bring my dogs to town my poetry has made you so mad.
This is the price you pay for poetry. They take from you what you love. They make you know you must comply in the bowels of the truth and keep your poem from the public mind that would change minds.
“Faiths Are Only a Doubt”, or whatever title it bears, the poem I’m waiting for to set the record straight, is blowin’ in the wind. Can you capitalism that? Can capitalism show that?
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
For both a ride on me, ageless against you, and the age of the suns, I’ll be thousands of fallin’ underneath my mind, startled by the springs of enlightenment, and the cards are in play but too grandiose for my design.
Involved in the history, I’m not chuckin’ wood, but let’s face it I’m this little man in a little play. Now look, even in my beach job parking lot the herald of swift event patterned life. I saw the nuances of things to come, and I was a bearer there.
You can’t grasp this in your hand. I held the Earth in impossible lilies. I knew it was a steamboat. I handled it carefully every damn day. Can you imagine sleep without it? It held me at night, working on its intricacies.
I saw the world comin’. It held my gasping hand in its own. It was a birthday kiss. It was a holocaust of things known. I did not put all my rocks there. I had bigger plans than Earth.
Can you starry enlightenment? It will do you away. You’re not there seein’ it. You’ve disappeared, standin’ right there in the middle of it, and you’ve gone father than the world.
I know this land. I can’t describe it to you. It’s taken the world away in perfect seeing. I am not sure of its moorings. My times there have been brief, but you hear it in my gifted speech.
A whole field’s to play, famous hotel, unknown to the world. Can you imagine seeing the impossible, a world where none is, sights and sounds that not be, thoughts where none be? A whole world arise from the Void where nonexistence is. What arises now?
I don’t know if I’m worth this. I don’t know if it’ll come, the springboards of the Earth a seer’s grasp, the passive in God’s hands, the no-self of enlightenment, the end of suffering for individual man.
The floodgates are open for this puny start, a beach bellhop boy liberals through the strong right-wing the doors of enlightenment, contentment and peace, where the wild things are. I carry that trailer. I tarry there.
It’s worth it, no firecrackers in the belly. Wish you that payment. I started looking at shiny objects. I realized there was a behind the behind in every word that’s true, when you touch base with reality.
I wanted a bridge. The vehicles of enlightenment silence the world, engineer reality to make the grand crossing. Uh-Huh, there’s a reality there enlightenment leads to, the nature of reality, where we come from.
And you think you’ve stalled on enlightenment? There’s a beyond. It studies the world for you. It’s its master design. The roads ever get deep. Another universe holds this one in ours, and we go on from there.
The All-Encompassing All-At-Once is the study of the game, and we’re on flat level Earth, the first rising structure to pick up This land. How can I get this across?
No sight can show you it. No mode of thought gets there. You can sit in the All-At-Once of the sun to use a metaphor, and there you can see the dynamics swiftly over your head in a secret passage to our Source.
Now bring enlightenment into the picture. It’s stills the world for you to get to the other side into the reality beyond the universe, into the reality that made us.
Glory in the spoken word of poetry. One bad dream is this universe to cross. Right this minute, can you get the sense of creation? Can you see it larger than the book?
We went past it. What happened? We got services hello Cape Canaveral. One accident, it’s gonna be close. Till Hunter gets back we don’t leave reality to the fishes. We get out of these beach suits, the mere survival looking for enjoyment, the group mind. I’ll be right back. And it was a hunter for spiritual dawns.
Can you see that out of the routine? Bonanza, we’ve established this fact on earth again. The pilot’s license, where we start. Oh my God my head on my shoulders, this is like the bus you know.
Me at work at the Roxie, photo by a kind tourist lady named Eleanor, taken just after writing the poem
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
I sit and toil all day at the heart’s sky, laboring meaning into form that won’t surprise me with its despair.
I unhand time. It seizes me. I believe in miracles. It’s all a wonderful of the All-Look’s gaze. I labor to see that.
I can remember it happening long ago. All the sights I see hide God. Can you hide God? It’s a revelation in a day, the abruptness of creation organizing time.
I can see through the forms cloud my mind with meaning. That bus that just stopped there, it stayed a bus, but it carried mystery.
The people at the bar getting drunk next door, a singer sings their songs. I can’t find the music or the melody they become more than sharks wetting their nose on freedom.
I carry them in time, the little guy at the Roxie station wagon tourist information center, seeing past the show into metaphor’s play.
Bathing suits and butts don’t know what they mean. Their wearers are proud of them. They walk past smiling don’t look stirring sexual desire.
I don’t know how to do this, be a Roxie concierge and assign God to the role. I just mean somethin’ to everyone. My hand is ever on time’s grasp, “Yes ma’am, can I help you please?”
I study tourists tryin’ to find time a meal on paradise. Can I help you folks? Every meaning gets bigger than time and be what it means for.
Can you see that? Every meaning we look at wears the face of God, but every dog knows God is horribly attentive to things you don’t understand.
I will find meaning there. I will reach beyond the Earth and sit at the Roxie and be myself guiding tourists to their destination on Fort Myers Beach. Yah get me dog?
Harm's End 